


Special Delivery

by emma_and_orlando



Series: Joger Week [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Dry Humping, John does not know how to speak up, Lapdance, Lingerie, M/M, Shy John, stripper!roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando
Summary: John gets an unexpected visitor.





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> Pls read da tags por favor. Bless you my readers.

Long weekends.

Johns doesn't know what man he has to thank for the concept of long weekends, but he pours out his second glass of cheap wine to the great fellow. 

He plans to spend the Friday, Saturday, Sunday and (yes, for real, also) the Monday lounging about his tint flat. 

All his plans are wiped from his agenda, except for his date with Chris Evans- who's movies John has downloaded into a neat file named: 'Arms, Ass and (great) Acting.'

The weekend will be a long string of fast food, solitude, movie marathons and a shit ton of undisturbed- 

**Ding Dong!**

John jumps at the unexpected ring of his doorbell. 

It takes a lot of willpower to climb out of his heap of blankets and pillows and shuffle his way over to the front door. Nearly stumbling over two boxes of pizza, he hadn't bothered to recycle yet. 

**Diiiiiiiiiiiiiing Dong Dong Dong!!!**

_Rude_. John will have to leave a negative review on Amazon because of the service.

_Since when do they deliver parcels at 11 PM anyway?_

John finishes unlocking the door with his key and opens the door with a tired sigh-

Revealing a tall, blond man in a long beige trench coat and thigh high boots, leaning against the doorpost with seductively hooded eyes. And plum glossy lips.

"Hi Birthday boy." The man lights up when Johns eyes travel along his pale limbs. 

His thighs are smooth and shaved under the coat. 

Johns eyes widen. "Uh- me?"

It's not August. It is early November and definitely not Johns birthday. 

The blond man continues to mentally undress John from where he's standing in the doorway. 

John follows his gaze with a shameful blush. 

Compared to the stranger, he is seriously underdressed in his sweatpants, wearing the same pizza stained Star Wars t-shirt he's worn three days in a row. 

"Yes you." The man winks, before pushing his body away from the doorpost to walk right past John, into his apartment.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on," 

John isn't fast enough. By the time he's twisted his body to scramble for the strangers coat and pull him out of Johns personal domain, he's already made his way into the dark room. Found the light switch and lit up the place. 

It's a disgusting mess of empty cans, takeout boxes, pillows forts and laundry thrown about on furniture. 

The tall man is the only beautiful thing in there.

_Pull yourself together for Gods sake!_

"Who the fuck are you?" Comes out of his stupid mouth. John cringes at how small he sounds. 

The strangers lips curl into a devious smile. 

"I'm Roger, your special delivery."

"I didn't order anythi- oh my God." 

Roger has unbuttoned his long trench coat in record speed to reveal a sheer pink lingerie set underneath. 

Johns jaw drops to the floor. 

All he can see is the thong, a barely there string. His perky ass is hugged beautifully by the elastic fabric. His tall muscular legs seem to go on forever. 

It takes a lot of willpower for Johns eyes to travel back up to the strangers baby blue eyes and rosy cheeks from the cold outside.

"What are you doing?" John manages to bite out. A hot pool of arousal burns in his underbelly at the sheer absurdness of the situation. "Look. I don't know what this is about, I don't know what to... eh." 

And perhaps because he had just watched a spicy sex scene with Chris Evans on top. 

"Sit down. I'll show you a good time." The stranger bites his lip suggestively. 

John closes the door with heavy arms. Afraid his snoopy neighbors will see the nearly naked man standing in his living room and think John has hired a prostitute of some sorts. 

"I think there's been a mistake." John squeaks- still desperately trying to keep his eyes _up_ as he watches Roger nonchalantly throw his coat over the back of the couch and pat at a spot for John. 

Beckoning him closer with his sinister playful eyes. 

"Come here."

Johns legs obey the low command. His cock twitches in his sweatpants.

_Idiot._

As soon as he is within reach, Roger takes a hold of Johns wrist and guides him onto the couch with a surprising amount of force.

John obediently sits on the edge of the ratty couch. His legs pressed together shamefully.

Roger stands over him in his bare glory. All curves and elegant lingerie digging into the flesh of his fluid body. He leans forward and comes down to straddle Johns lap.

John falls back against the backrest with a startle. 

"I-I didn't pay for this." He desperately tries to explain. Not sure what to do with his hands, so he awkwardly splays them onto Rogers hips with a guilty blush. 

Rogers lips ghost over the shell of Johns ear. Hot breaths and a heavy body pressed against his makes the younger man whimper helplessly.

"I know, Babe. Your friends did."

"My friends? But-"

Soft lips trail down the side of Johns face, down to his flushed neck.

Sweet teasing nips leave a trail of goosebumps, but no marks. Roger grins victoriously when John loses his trail of thoughts and his head falls back against the couch with a broken moan. 

Strong thighs clamp around Johns waist and for a moment he can't breathe. 

"Cat got your tongue, Baby?" 

Rogers sinful lips bite the sensitive skin of his jaw. His front teeth nibbling on the softness, until Johns hips buckle up against his.

Strong hands press Johns shoulders flat against the couch. 

It's apparently the clue for Roger to slowly roll his hips back against Johns. Glowing with pride when he feels Johns hardness against him.

"At least _someone_ isn't pretending to be shy." Roger teases as he grinds onto Johns erection. "Are you enjoying it?"

Admittedly, John is.

He hadn't expected a stripper (or whatever) in his house on the last day of his long weekend, but his hard cock is getting the attention it deserves after weeks of no action besides Johns right hand.

He licks his lips before answering. "Yes."

Roger continues to rub Johns front. Intense blue eyes on Johns the whole time. 

John feels himself melt into the couch. 

Only now he truly notices the extent of the beauty before him. Rogers face is adored with the shadows of his long eyelashes. His lips are plum and slick with gloss. Flushed cheeks and hooded doe eyes exude faux innocence in the most devilish way.

"You're really pretty." 

John gasps and instantly dies of mortification with his sweaty palms, still on Rogers bare hips. Gliding over the string of his thong. 

"Anything for the birthday boy." Roger says sweetly, voice only slightly strained from his grinding. "It's your special day, after all." 

John clears his throat. Suddenly serious.

"Uh, it actually isn't my birthday." 

Roger seems ready to deny this fact, again. But John doesn't let him get away with it this time. He squeezes Rogers hips and forces him to look him in the eye.

"No like, I am serious. My birthday is on August the 19th and my friends don't have the money to afford a stripper."

The serious look on Johns no longer red face must have done the trick. The blonds eyes widen, and he finally stops trying to dry hump John with his own thong covered erection.

"Wait, you aren't Carl Maxime?" 

John cringes, shaking his head. "No- eh... John Deacon. Carl Maxime is the third floor, not the second."

Roger gapes at him, covering his mouth with his hand.

It makes John feel incredibly stupid. He wants to curl up in a dark corner and die. He shouldn't have let it come as far as he did.

Hell, he had openly enjoyed the free services offered to him. Even if it lasted less than five minutes.

Just as John gathers enough confidence to utter an apology- Roger bursts out laughing.

He muffles his belly shaking giggles in the side of Johns neck. Fingers playing with the loose ends of Johns ratty old t-shirt.

"I'm so- so sorry." Roger nearly has to gasp for air through his tears. "I thought it was- God you were so adorably confused."

John can't help but join in. 

Relaxing a bit when Rogers weight sinks against him, wet lips still pressed against his warm neck.

Their muscles relax, until Roger is more or less splayed out over John rather than straddling him. 

"I get it now! Oh my God, please don't sue me."

John lets out a breathy laugh, and runs a comforting hand down Rogers warm side. "Don't worry about that."

Roger leans back, suddenly looking rather mortified as he takes in the state John is in. 

"I hope I didn't do anything you felt-"

"No- no! I liked it. You're really good." John clears his throat. Suddenly dry as the dessert. "Carl is a lucky boy."

Rogers eyes soften and he places a relieved hand onto his thumping heart. 

"Oh thank God. This could have ruined my life. Can't really afford a bloody lawsuit."

John snorts at the way Roger transforms now that he isn't in a working mindset. He runs a hand through his messy hair and fluffs it up even more. His shoulders hunch, instead of the pretty, alluring arch in his back. And he shivers in the cold of the apartment. 

"You're still in my lap." John whispers under his breath.

Roger raises a challenging eyebrow. 

"You still have your hands on my hips."

As if burned, John removes his fingers from playing with the lacy elastic of the pink thong. Instead he awkwardly flattens his palms on the couch.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Roger smiles sweetly, still not making a move to get up. "I can't believe I have to do the whole intro again."

Like a lazy cat, he curls up and stretches his muscles. 

"It was a great intro." John tries to comfort him. Despite his own embarrassment. "Very effective." 

"Naw, you're just saying that." 

The teasing is very attractive too, but John has no idea how to respond to it besides blushing.

Luckily, Roger doesn't give him enough time to reply.

He pushes himself back into a straddling position, spine straightened with newfound determination as he cups Johns cheeks in his warm palms. 

"Such a pity though, you're very cute."

John leans into the touch like a cat, but he is unable to think of something useful to say.

Roger takes it as his cue to leave.

He smiles politely, before climbing out of Johns lap with more dignity than John has ever possessed. 

In no time, Roger has his coat back over his shoulders and the buttons clasped in place.

John scrambles up from the couch to see him out. His cock still painfully visibly erect between his legs.

Roger either doesn't notice or care enough to comment on it. 

He struts past John with the softest of all smiles and slips his way out of the door without another word. John holds it open with a heavy heart.

_God, this could have been perfect. He screwed this up. He should have said something. Say something. Anything! Come on John, goddamn he thinks you're a confused heterosexual who's unable to keep his tiny living space clean. You stupid- _

"Hey!" John calls out before he can stop himself. "Roger?"

The blond halts just before he would turn the corner of the hallway. A smile ghosts over his face. 

"Yes?"

"When you're eh... _Done_ with Carl, would you like to watch Iceman with me? It's with Chris Evans, rated R. I don't know if you're into him, or me for that matter. But I-"

"I'd love to." 

John blinks. Not quite registering Rogers response, until he meets the eyes of the smiling stripper. 

"Yeah?"

"Yes, give me twenty minutes. I'll be quick." He winks. John has to hold onto the doorpost to keep his knees from buckling. 

"Okay." He nods. "Okay, I'll be eh... Waiting."

It is obvious Roger is trying not to laugh at his awkwardness, which John can appreciate.

"Great. I like my popcorn sweet." 

"Whatever you want."

John continues to bop his head obediently, until Roger has long turned the corner to strip for his unsuspecting neighbor, he still stands in the doorway. Watching the empty hallway with a stupid grin plastered over his face. 

It takes a good five minutes before John physically manages to pull himself back into his apartment. He slides down against the front door with an uncontrollable grin on his pink face.

Once again: Long weekends are the absolute best.

They will never believe this at work tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> So I am starting to notice the Poly!Queen readers leave more comments and kudos? Or am I wrong?
> 
> Proof me wrong? Heheheh


End file.
